


Though It Still Breaks

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love, mentions of drug and alcohol use, this is just sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4032793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s <i>Louis</i>; he gets his way. That’s how it works and he’s not used to this. He feels a vice tighten around what’s left of his heart as he angrily scrubs the tears from his cheek, ignoring the fact there’s a concert he’s supposed to be performing going on right upstairs. He can’t really care, though, not when he has to watch the love of his fucking life across the stage from him, pretending he doesn’t exist, pretending Liam doesn’t know <i>exactly</i> how Louis feels. It drives him so mad.</p><p>or, Louis knows that he'll never complete the person who completes him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Though It Still Breaks

**Author's Note:**

> this wasn't supposed to be a fic. everyone on tumblr made me do it. i am sorry. also sorry about the amount of crying in this.
> 
> thank you so much to bailey for the awesome, quick beta! (any remaining mistakes are my own) and to the anons who dragged this story out of me at 2am!

Liam has always been perfect, and Louis’ crush on him has only ever got worse since the first time he saw Liam at bootcamp: straightened fringe in his eyes and broad under his plaid t-shirt. It’s not really Louis’ fault, if you think about it, how could he not fall in love with him?

Liam has been the one who has kept Louis grounded as they rose to the top of the world, and when they got there, he’s been the one who stands next to Louis, arm around his shoulders, looking out on 90,000 flashing lights from the phones of people from countries they’d never even heard of five years ago- let alone imagined they’d perform in stadiums there.

Liam knows how to get Louis to open up to him like no-one else, and he knows how Louis manages to get those feelings into lyrics. Louis knows every thought that crosses Liam’s brain as they sit in the studio in the middle of the night with a keyboard and notepad and pen. Louis knows everything there is to know about Liam; and Liam _is_ his everything.

It’s a little embarrassing, all the nicknames he’s given Liam throughout the years, all the attention he devoted to getting him to play with him on the X Factor, all the bro-dates and reeces he dragged Liam on: and Liam still hasn’t got the hint. And right now Louis is drunk. Drunk and sad. Drunk and sad and angry. And stupid- very stupid. Nothing makes sense in his head other than Liam.

He could find his way there with a paper bag over his head really, so he stumbles up to Liam’s front door and whacks it hard three times before the movement makes him feel dizzy. He can still taste the Sours on his tongue and he barely spares a thought for how much of a bad idea this is. It is a very bad idea because he has a lot of very messy thoughts running through is mind and only three words he can put them into. And he can’t say _those_ out loud.

Liam takes a while to show up, well, long enough in Louis’ head, and when he opens the door Louis’ breath catches in his throat because Liam is shirtless and sleepy with his joggers hanging _so_ low on his hips and his hair all soft and ruffled and tiredly blinking his eyes open saying “Lou.. what?” in a croaky voice and Louis wants to cry and kiss him and admit everything and just crawl into Liam’s bed and live there forever. Shit, he’s beautiful.

He shivers a little, rubbing the goosebumps on his arms. It’s cold in British May-time and Louis has left his jacket in the club, leaving with only one thought on his mind. Liam bundles him inside without hesitation. 

“Jesus Christ, Lou. Do you have a death wish or summat?” he rubs a warm hand down Louis’ bicep and pulls him into his side. Louis just melts into it- Liam is so warm and solid and he’s always been Louis’ constant source of stability- which Louis is inebriated enough to have lost some time ago. 

Louis shrugs and turns to press his face into Liam’s bare chest. His nose is probably cold but Liam has such a nice chest, and he smells so good.

Liam sighs and leads him straight to his bedroom, depositing Louis gently on the bed and wrapping the entire duvet around his shoulders so he can just stop shivering.

It’s quiet for a while, Louis desperately trying to warm up and sober up, each with little success. He just cocoons himself in the bedding and watches Liam’s face fall all concerned.

“It’s 3am Louis. Have you been out all this time?” Liam asks and Louis nods, only it makes his head spin more.

“I was partying,” Louis says quietly, as if that is any explanation for why he’s showed up, trashed on Liam’s doorstep at arse o’clock in the morning. 

“You’re not okay,” Liam says.

“I’m drunk,” Louis tells him and bites his tongue to prevent himself telling Liam why he was out in the first place. Liam doesn’t fall for it though, he never does.

His eyebrows draw together and he looks so sad when he asks softly, “What’s wrong, Louis? Why are you doing this to yourself?”

Louis chokes up a little. 

“You don’t get it Liam,” he whispers, voice cracking on his name. “You don’t fucking get it.”

Liam just frowns harder and moves to push Louis’ fringe off his face. Louis flinches away. “Try me.” he says. Louis _knows_ he wouldn’t get it.

“No. You wouldn’t…” Louis repeats, pulling the duvet tighter around himself, as if he can hide away from it. 

Liam continues looking sad and beautiful and Louis doesn’t notice he’s crying until a tear drags unevenly across his lips.

 “Why haven’t you just noticed, or.. or done something yet?” he tries to yell, but it comes out as weak as he feels. “Why.. just.. can’t you - can’t you see it’s killing me?” He’s mad. He’s so mad- at himself. Liam shakes his head and opens his mouth to say something but Louis isn’t going to let him.  

“God, why haven’t you realised I’ve been like this since the X Factor. Since the first bloody time I - I met you.” Louis hands tighten on the bedcovers and he squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to see the pity etched onto Liam’s gorgeous face. 

 “Like what, Lou?” he asks quietly.

 Louis takes a deep breath; trying to calm himself. It doesn’t work. “Like in love with you! And I fucking hate it!” Louis attempts to shout, but his voice cracks again and he drops his head, trembling a little and probably crying- he’s still too drunk to notice, not that he really cares.

 Liam just gapes at him and Louis can’t help it when he cries a little harder and lies down so he doesn’t have to look at Liam’s face. Doesn’t have to see the answers he knows he’ll get written clearly across it.

 “Oh, Louis…” Liam begins but Louis shakes his head curling himself up with the entire duvet and mumbling “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry” a s he falls asleep, cheeks wet and insides raw. 

 

 

 

Louis wakes up confused and in someone else’s bed.. before panicking about whether or not he pulled last night… before realising he’s fully clothed, and that it’s Liam’s bed and Liam is sitting next to him, stroking his hair gently off of his face when he blinks his eyes open. 

 Louis’ head feels like a large stampede of elephants are running through it but he doesn’t even pay attention to that when Liam looks so beautiful and sleep-ruffled. 

 “What..?” he manages to grumble, no idea how he ended up here, and Liam’s face falls, sympathy painted all over it. Now Louis is a little nervous, what state was he even in after the club? He doesn’t even remember leaving.

 Liam sighs gently and takes his hand away and Louis realises he’d spent all night hogging all of Liam’s duvet and all of his bed, but Liam doesn’t even look like he cares.

 “Louis,” he begins carefully and Louis does not like that tone of voice. “Do you remember what you told me last night?” he asks.

Louis laughs weakly, despite it hurting his head, and shrug saying: “That you need a new haircut?” It’s a lie. He loves Liam’s hair like he loves every part of him.

 Liam shakes his head and smiles weakly. “You showed up here at three in the morning, absolutely wasted.” he tells him.

 Louis frowns in confusion. “What? Why?”

 Liam shakes his head again. He’s avoiding eye contact and Louis hates it. “I don’t know. But you were upset. Like, really upset. And you were crying quite a lot before you told me, um… Louis you said that you loved me,” Liam finishes and as Louis starts to vaguely recall some sort of conversation that could’ve been about _that_ from the previous night, he feels all the colour draining out of his face and nausea settle in the pit of his stomach.

He blinks at Liam, trying to gauge his reaction. But Liam doesn’t look anything but sorry and pitiful. Louis hates that. He hates this whole thing.

There is no way he can play this off as a joke; and maybe the crying explains why the headache he’s got a little more than just a hangover. “D-did I really?” he all but whispers, scrubbing his eye with the back of his hand. Yep, he was definitely crying.

Liam nods slowly and just looks at Louis like he’s something to be handled carefully; as if he’s something broken. It’s awful.

Louis drops his chin to his chest, because he can’t make eye contact and also he’s really trying _not_ to cry because he wants to maintain the one tiny shard of dignity he has left, while he’s sitting in Liam’s bed, smelling like jägerbombs and very hungover. 

“And?” he asks, failing to keep a steady voice, knowing he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“And.” Liam says, letting out a sigh, picking up Louis’ hand to rub a thumb across it before dropping it and taking a deep breath. “And you’re my best friend, Louis. You’re my writing partner. And I love you so much. But, Louis,” he says.

_Here it comes_ \- Louis thinks.

“But Louis, I- I have a girlfriend, Lou. I love you so much, so bloody much but just not in the way you want me to. And I can’t give that to you and… I’m sorry,” Liam’s voice grows quiet as he finishes and Louis can feel the way his heart just immediately rips in two, uneven, harsh, ribcage too tight as he realises his eyelashes are wet. Again.

“Okay,” he whispers and Liam tries and take his hand again but Louis moves it away quickly, he can’t do that to himself, shrugging off the duvet and clocking his shoes at the end of the bed. He realises that Liam took them off for him and hung his jacket up on the side too. He loves him so much. 

“Okay. I should…go home now,” Louis mumbles, swinging his legs around to slip on his shoes and grab his jacket, standing up. He ends up wobbling on his feet because even now there’s still alcohol in his system, which isn’t doing a very good job at numbing the pain, if he’s honest.

Liam just nods and doesn’t even try and say anything else. He leads Louis down the stairs to the front door with a warm hand on his back, and his hands are big enough they sit right on the dip at the bottom of Louis’ spine, which only serves to make Louis’ chest hurt even more.

Liam apologises on the doorstep again, his eyes look so sad, which just makes Louis feel even more ill. He reckons he might go home, be sick, stuff himself with painkillers and go back to sleep because he thought having an embarrassing crush was bad enough, but it was nothing compared to this. Louis has known all along that he hadn’t a hope in hell of Liam loving him back, so really it’s his fault for being so unprepared to hear the words, and so unprepared in a plan to ever pick his heart back up again.

“I _do_ love you, Louis.” Is what Liam tells him and Louis has to bite his lip to stop himself sobbing on the doorstep.

He can’t even look at Liam because he’s so perfect it hurts, so he looks down at his drink stained shoes from last night and say sadly: “I know.”

And he does know. Liam does love him- just not in the way he wants.

 

 

*

 

Louis doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do when tour starts back up in less than a week and he’s going to have to face the fact that he can’t avoid Liam forever. He’s just going have to suck it up, hold himself together so he doesn’t have a mental breakdown on stage. 

Anyway, there’s nobody he can talk to about it because… well, what can he tell them?  _The love of my entire life doesn’t love me back and never will_? And so he isolates himself for the remaining few days.

He doesn’t leave the house, even gets Alberto to run past the corner shop to get more milk for his tea when he runs out. He doesn’t let Alberto in and doesn’t tell him what’s wrong, just takes the bloody milk and returns to the kitchen where he can be alone again. He doesn’t want nor need anyone’s sympathy- that’d mean telling them how he feels, besides, and Louis is _not_ about to admit _that_ in a million years.

Mostly, he just stays inside and smokes a lot of weed and tries to stay high enough that he won’t allow himself to do anything that will remind him of Liam. But it’s futile because Liam goddamn Payne is everywhere. He’s seeped himself into every corner and every crevice of Louis’ life and there’s nothing he can do about it, and it’s no wonder Louis fell so hard, head-first into love. 

He ignores all calls that come through on his phone. They’re mostly from Liam anyway. Liam’s the only one who knows.

Flopping back into the corner of the sofa he takes one last drag on the spliff, drawing it from his lips, trying to let it fill his lungs up to compensate for the emptiness in his chest. It doesn’t really work, but the rest of it has settled in his body enough that he doesn’t care. He just doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that the girl on CSI on the telly in front of him left a bloody handprint on the railing, he doesn’t care that he’s ignored everybody in his life for the last week, he doesn’t care that he’s unbelievably unprepared for tour to kick back in- he just doesn’t care. If it’s not about Liam then why the fuck should he bother?

He doesn’t realise he’s crying at all this time. He doesn’t think he’s cried this much since he was 13 and his biological dad tried to phone his mum and he accidentally picked up the phone while she was at work and the bloke hadn’t even acknowledged him.

He feels so… useless.

Something buzzes in his back pocket and he doesn’t react until he realises it’s his phone. He enters his passcode wrong three times before opening the message from Liam:

_tommo i’m sorry, ok? i hope ur alright. alberto said he was worryed. hope ur good for tour on fri. we’re doing a rehearsal early in the morning before we drive down to wales. c u soon mateee :) xx_

Louis locks his phone violently and takes a deep breath. He’s not ready in the slightest.

The rehearsal goes shit and Louis sleeps the entire journey to Cardiff, because he cannot face the people he’s blanked the last few days. Especially Liam who hasn’t managed to get the pity removed from his stupidly flawless face.  

He doesn’t think he’s ever been so nervous for a show before and he’s jittering about the dressing room so much that Caroline has to pin his shoulders back just so Lou can put powder on his face. He watches Liam behind him in the mirror, jumping about and beaming like he does before every show. He never gets bored or any less excited, forgetting every other trouble going on in his head when he’s got a microphone in his hands and Louis supposes that’s because Liam has everything he loves in the world already, and he’s jealous. 

Even from backstage Louis can tell the crowd is loud and he wants to yell and cover his ears and make it all stop. But he steps out there and plasters on a smile. He’s going to have to _try_ , because that’s all he’s ever been able to do. 

It’s okay. It is. Liam still bounces across the stage like a Labrador and he basks in the stage lights like a god. It’s no wonder everyone adores him and the screams grow deafening every time he leans over to smile at the crowd. 

Louis isn’t in the zone at all, he can’t get his notes out right and he can’t make himself jump around and he can’t run around stage because that always involves playing with Liam. And he’s _sick_ of playing. So he decides harassing Niall about his hat and his golf is probably a good distraction until it looks like Niall is genuinely upset and is considering giving Louis an elbow to the face, which only makes him feel like a dickhead.

God, he tries his hardest and focuses on the fans, tries to wave and not to let his voice crack as he sings. He tries his fucking hardest and if he’s not working like he usually does at gigs and he just feels like even more of a disappointment. 

He’s barely surviving this show, they’ve still got the rest of Europe and America to travel across. He’s almost scared for it, and then the guitars start and Louis knows what song is coming next. He remembers sitting outside on a garage roof with cigarettes and shit food writing the song with the boy who was, _is_ his entire world.  

The lights hit Liam and he looks so beautiful, clutching the mic stand with bent biceps and face flushed with colour. He sounds so beautiful when he sings: _you tell me that you’re sad and lost your way, you tell me that your tears are here to stay, but I know you were only hiding.._

Louis doesn’t sing his solo. 

He’s practically off stage by the time the song finishes, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop the tears that are threatening to appear, telling, not asking Liam that he’s just going to the loo before racing off backstage without casting a single look back.

He slams the door behind him, ignoring the strange look from the stadium security guard, and leans back against it as it shuts. Breathing harshly, he tries to calm down. He lets his eyes shut and tilts his chin to the ceiling but all it does it make the tears trickle down the side of his face and down his neck.

This isn’t him. This isn’t Louis and he knows it. He doesn’t _let_ things get to him; he brushes them off with quick wit and goes back to being on the ball, goes back to living life as a comedy. 

He’s _Louis_ ; he gets his way. That’s how it works and he’s not used to this. He feels a vice tighten around what’s left of his heart as he angrily scrubs the tears from his cheek, ignoring the fact there’s a concert he’s supposed to be performing going on right upstairs. He can’t really care, though, not when he has to watch the love of his fucking life across the stage from him, pretending he doesn’t exist, pretending Liam doesn’t know _exactly_ how Louis feels. It drives him so mad.

He stays there, locked in the toilet for a while, probably long enough for people to start to wonder what the hell is going on but he isn’t really thinking about them. 

He pushes himself up off the door so he can turn and steady himself against the sides of the tiny china sink, trying to even out his breath. But it’s hard when he keeps choking up again every time he so much as thinks of Liam, and when he looks up in the mirror his eyes are all red and puffy and theres no way he can try and hide this. He has been hiding so well for the last five years, and now his resolve has shattered.

He can hear Harry trying to tell knock knock jokes to stall the audience through the speakers and by the time he reaches “boo who?”, “don’t cry, it’s only a joke!” Louis figures he should probably make some sort of reappearance on stage only there’s a knocking at the door.

“S’busy!” Louis snaps, pressing a cold, wet wad of tissue onto his eyes trying to calm them a bit.

“Louis? Open up, mate.” 

It’s Alberto’s voice.

“Go away!” he calls out again, dumping the tissue in the bin and sighing at his reflection.

“Louis!” he knocks again and Louis yanks the door open roughly.

“I’m fine. I- I’ve got a show to do, okay?” Louis tries to snap, but mostly sounds sad as he brushes past Alberto and back to the stage, trying to hide his reddened face.

The rest of the show is pretty awful, as expected. 

Nobody asks him where he was. Louis can’t stop the ache in his chest and he can’t stop his eyes following Liam’s every move and he can’t stop thinking about how much he loves him.

The next day the concert doesn’t run any more smoothly. Nor does it the next. Or the next.

As the tour continues Louis just becomes more and more withdrawn between and during shows. It’s not like he can tell anyone why, and the only person who knows is the one person who can’t help him, so he mostly pretends to be homesick. 

He doesn’t really expect anyone to believe him.

They’re in Brussels by the time Alberto has had enough and phones Jay; and she is having none of that.

Louis whines about it, obviously. He can’t believe his _security_ just made a phone call to his mum because of his behaviour. He can’t quite grasp the fact that people are only looking out for him when he huffily snatches the phone and drawls: “Hello, Mum." 

“Louis, hun, why am I getting anxious texts from your crew members and why is Niall telling me to sort you out?” she asks and Louis sighs.

“I’m fine. Honestly. Just tired,” he lies. She doesn’t buy it for a second. 

“You’ve just had two months off.” 

Louis shrugs before realising she can’t see him through the phone. “Yeah, well…” he doesn’t finish his sentence.

“If you’re not happy I can come and pick you up love,” she tells him, voice tinny through the phone. It’s almost laughable.

“ _Mum_. I’m twenty three years old. I’m on a world tour. This isn’t primary school, you can hardly pick me up from the front reception anymore,” he tells her, but she just tells him not to insult her motherhood.

“What’s wrong, darling?” She continues. “You’re never like this.” She sounds so worried that he can’t not say it. He can’t not tell his own mum.

He attempts to take a deep breath, to steady his voice for a moment before he says: “M’in love with Liam.”

He can hear the _oh Louis, love_  on the other end of the line without her even saying a word.  

“And he doesn’t love me back.” 

“My brave, brave boy,” she says eventually. “All this time?” 

Louis nods and makes a small “mhmm,” sound. If he tries to speak he’ll never be able to stop.

“Honey.” Jay says. “Look, I know how much he means to you. I know he’s your favourite and it’s not surprising at all that you feel like this.”

Louis bites his bottom lip between his teeth too hard and shuts his eyes.

“Love is so very cruel, and I know Liam would never want to hurt you. But it _does_ hurt to put your all into one person and watch them let it go. One day you’re going to love someone else very, very much, Louis, and they’re going to love you back. In the right way- I promise. Although your heart can break it always knows what’s for the best and you’ve got to trust that, my love. You’re going to be okay.” she tells him and Louis mumbles thank you into the phone, holding it together by a thread.

“Love you, Mum.” he says softly.

“I love you too, sweetheart. _I_ will always love you.”

Louis chuckles quietly and just as he hangs up he hears Liam come in, realising he’s got nowhere to hide.

“Louis,” he says, sitting down on the sofa next to him. The way he says his name tugs on his stomach. Louis half wishes he would put his arm around him and pull him into a headlock just so it would seem _normal_. Just so he can go back to the LouisandLiam he loved so desperately. But he doesn’t.

“Liam. Please don’t,” Louis averts his eyes. He can’t do this. He can’t.

“I’m sorry Louis. I am.”

Louis’ chest tightens again. “Liam just- just don’t okay? Don’t apologise. This is my thing, my problem.” he snaps and he knows Liam is biting back another apology. 

“Sorry,” he says, quieter. He can’t help but be mad at himself. And at Liam for being so perfect and so far out of his reach. And Liam has Sophia who is amazing and Louis really likes her and he can’t even be mad at the fact she gets to hold the thing that matters most to him because Liam deserves someone like her, who isn’t an arsehole like Louis, who isn’t so difficult. Who won’t show up at his doorstep at three in the morning with drunken confessions that are half a decade too late.

“I shouldn’t snap at you,” he says, eventually. “And.. and I shouldn’t have let myself fall in love with you because that’s not fair. That was fucking selfish of me. I put you on a pedestal and that’s not right and I wish I could just not love you, you know?” 

Liam pulls him in then and Louis lets him without a hint of a fight. He’s exhausted. 

“I can imagine.” His voice is quiet. Louis loves his voice like every other part of him. “But don’t make me lose my best friend, Lou.”

Louis shakes his head and looks up at Liam from where he’s resting on his shoulder. “I - I won’t.” he says quietly.

Liam smiles at him then, so softly it breaks the final fragment of Louis’ heart to muster a small smile back; and Louis is the one who is so, so sorry. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading :)


End file.
